


Balance

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Series: Nothing but Smut! [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Angelic Grace, BAMF Castiel, Castiel-centric, Dom/sub, Forced Orgasm, In Public, Library Sex, M/M, POV Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 20:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5554325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I received this ask on Tumblr: </p><p>"So my friend recently sent me a text post that said "The angels could give and take away stomach caner, remove lungs, make people explode, etc." and eventually a comment lead to someone saying something along the lines of, "Cas could randomly make Dean orgasm if he really wanted to" and I was wondering if you had any free time on your hands you could make a short fic of it."</p><p>So I did ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balance

              He does it on purpose … Cas _knows_ he does. Dean will sit there and say that the angel is just exaggerating or imagining things, but Cas _knows_. He’s been around for eons, and he can tell the difference between coincidence and intention, and Dean is nothing but a walking, talking, _evil mass_ of intention right now.

              He has on that shirt … the white undershirt that he rarely wears on its own because he doesn’t like buying bleach, but he also doesn’t like wearing dingy looking white fabric … so he spreads out the occasions to adorn himself in such a garment. And he just toweled off his hair too, which he has let get longer the past two months—putting off his usual haircut, saying he’s been too busy … but _again_ , Castiel knows that’s a lie. He’s had time, but he’s avoided it for very specific reasons. Dean is also wearing the jeans that are a bit looser on his frame, so they sag down and show his hips when he lifts up his arms, giving _all_ a sneak peak of pale skin and fine redish blonde hair.

              He used that soap that sticks to his flesh for hours and makes him smell positively edible. He’s walking tall and confident. His eyes are sparkling with malice. He’s done all these things … _all of them_ in one day, and there is no way in heaven or hell that it was all just by chance, especially since two days prior … Cas had told Dean about _all_ these things—about what they _do_ to him. He whispered every single one into the man’s ear. He kissed each detail down his neck. He pressed each compliment into his skin—and as Dean grasped at the sheets of their bed and came undone in Castiel’s hand, the angel told him how every single one of those things drove him _crazy_. They made Dean irresistible to him, and it was always hard to stay composed when one of them caught his attention.

              Now they are _all_ _here_ —all screaming at Castiel’s senses. _Look at me! Touch me! Taste me!_ And the angel cannot seem to block it out. Even worse, _they are in public_ —out doing research for this case. They are in a public library for heaven’s sake, and in comes _Dean_ , sauntering through the aisles with a smirk and every one of Castiel’s  weaknesses shrouded about himself.

              “Hey Cas” he said, as if nothing were different—as if it were _any_ Tuesday and this was _any_ moment in _any_ library where they could all focus on the case, and _not_ the way that t-shirt hugs the curve of Dean’s muscles.

              The man then deliberately avoided the angel’s hot blue stare as he perched up on his tip toes to reach a book on the top-shelf, showing off just a sliver of skin … a completely pointless act too, because the book he was reaching for was about European castles … not anything about the beast they were currently hunting. Dean tried to play it off, saying that he thought the spine said something else. _As if Castiel were stupid._

 _No_ , he’s not stupid.

              He sees through the man—sees through that shirt and those loose jeans and the black briefs that are peeking out from the waistband. He sees through it all and through his freckled skin, through the bone and blood—down to the heart that’s beating double time with excitement that a heavenly being who is capable of tearing him apart by the atoms, is coming undone _himself_ with just a few humanly things. Dean Winchester is making a power play here—and it is completely pissing the angel off that it is working.

_No …_

              Dean thinks he has the upper hand right now. He thinks he’s shifted the balance in his favor. _Why?_ Because they’re in public? Because they have work to do and Castiel is ever the obedient one? _Oh … that poor, sad little boy._ Does he not remember the abuse Castiel took? The heavenly wars he started and ended because he was anything _but_ obedient? Does he not recall? Cas will follow the rules when that is in the best interest for everyone, but _right now_ … there is no harm in _not_ following the rules. Castiel can’t foresee any negative consequence if he disregards the fact that there are people around, or the fact that they really _should_ be doing research, or that a librarian may be a _little_ upset with a disruption to her quiet world— it most certainly will not be _ideal_ , but nothing truly _bad_ will happen if the angel turns around and plays Dean’s own game.  

              Castiel watches as his friend licks his thumb—a little too sensually for just the purpose of turning a page of the book he’s pretending to read. The man has been avoiding the angel’s eyes ever since he walked in, but has done _everything_ to keep those eyes focused on his body. That body that Cas has beaten and taken and rebuilt and pulled apart. That body that he has kissed and watched and admired for years. That body that holds that soul that more often than not, seems like the only thing in existence he can hold on to … Castiel is watching it all right now, shaking with the need to hold it all again. Dean knows what he’s doing and he thinks he knows what _Cas_ will do.

_Stupid boy … stupid little boy._

              The angel rises, a smirk of his own now playing on his face and for the first time since Dean arrived, Dean looks up at him—swallowing hard with what he sees.

              “ _Uh_ … Cas?” he mumbles, tilting back as Castiel crowds him against the bookshelf, knocking over a couple heavy texts in the process.

              From the corner of his eye, he sees the librarian at her desk peer up and furrow her brow—she obviously isn’t liking the looks of all this, but Castiel is _loving_ it.

              “Wh—what are ya doin’, man?” Dean stammers again, looking around helplessly as he drops the book he is holding and braces himself on the shelving.

              “You do remember how strong we angels are, don’t you, Dean?” Castiel asks, low and gritty—staring at Dean’s lips the entire time. The man seems to shrink beneath that stare. “You remember how my brothers and sisters could warp the world around you … warp time, manipulate what you knew to be real, manipulate your own intentions … your _body_ , just with nothing more than a thought? You do remember that, don’t you, Dean?”

              The petrified man in breathing heavily now, scrunched down as Castiel looms above him—blue eyes drilling the lid to his coffin closed. He nods after another moment when the angel steps in closer, forcing him to finally move.

              “Oh _good_. I was worried you forgot” Castiel smiles wickedly. “You see, if you forgot, then that would explain why you would think it wise to try and distract me like this.”

              “I – I don’t know what you—“ Dean begins, but is quickly silenced by the arid huff of the angel’s laugh.

              “ _Oh_. You don’t know what I’m talking about, _hm_?” Castiel reaches up a little and pulls at the hem of Dean’s t-shirt. “Not a clue?”

              Dean swallows again before abortively shaking his head.

              Castiel clicks his tongue. “Is that _really_ the answer you’re going to stick with?”

              Dean doesn’t move but he also doesn’t refuse and that is all the confirmation the angel needs.

              “ _Unwise_ , Winchester” he whispers, leaning in close to the man’s ear.

              The angel then stands up straight and takes one large step back—showcasing the space that now rests between them. Dean straightens out as well, cocking his head to the side—confused by Castiel’s actions. Blue eyes slit razor thin as nimble fingers flick beneath the sleeve of his trench—and without even a sound, and barely a thought, Castiel watches Dean’s eyes go wide.

              The man stumbles back again and smashes into the shelves once more, knuckles going white as he grips the metal for support. Dean gasps and shakes and bites his lip so hard, it is likely to bleed. But Castiel just lifts his chin proudly—not satisfied yet. _Not even close._

              He twists the wrist of his other hand and Dean is instantly buckling in the middle, shaking his head as his entire body snaps and shivers. For one split second, he regains control—mainly because the angel _lets him_ —and Dean stares up, shock and pleading in his eyes, but his heavenly friend knows no mercy.

              Another twitch of Cas’s fingers, and Dean is moaning—low, restrained—trying so desperately to be quiet. Yet, Castiel isn’t going for _quiet_ here. After all, Dean wasn’t quiet with _his_ intentions today. He practically shouted them from the rooftops, and if he was fine with shouting before— _well_ , why wouldn’t he be fine with shouting now?

              Castiel inches in, bending down so he can meet the man eye to eye, ignoring the small crowd of people that is gathering at a distance to see what all the commotion is about. With a smile, the angel looks about Dean’s face, celebrating little victories with each bead of sweat he sees gathering on the man’s temple. “It would be within your best interest” he whispers, reaching up to slide his thumb across Dean’s bottom lip, instantly healing the bite mark that the man had just put there. “To not try and get the better of me in the future. You _will not_ win.”

              Dean whimpers, but his eyes burst with that age old fury and fire that makes him so irresistible, so stubborn, so _Dean_ … and Castiel _knows_ , the man just can’t help himself.

              “ _So_ …” he grits out, still shaking on the edge that Castiel is keeping him balanced upon. “What’cha gonna do, Cas?”

              Castiel smiles, pulling upright once more, finally turning his head to acknowledge the people watching their little show. Without looking back, he laughs. “ _This.”_

              The angel lifts his head higher and arches his brow, and instantly, _Dean in shouting_ —falling to the ground completely, scurrying back—teetering the bookshelf to and fro, knocking some more hardcovers to the floor as he writhes and moans. With desperate hands, the man begins to palm at the loose fabric of his jeans, scraping at the phantom fingers that seem to be everywhere on him—touching him _everywhere_ , pulling at every nerve and making him come _again_ , and _again_. He yelps out as he grinds his teeth—cracking his jaw so loud, he doesn’t even hear the librarian yelling at them.

              Castiel just tosses out a lazy gesture and silences her quickly … his laser focus stare still on the man he’s breaking apart.

              That perfectly mussed up hair is now sticking to Dean’s sweat streaked forehead, and that white t-shirt is smeared with the dust from the shelves. Those loose jeans are twisted at an odd angle on Dean’s spent body, and the man smells like nothing more than sex and defeat.

              Castiel smiles wider once he finally lowers his hands and lets Dean’s seizing muscles go from his hold.

              Dean promptly slithers into a puddle on the floor, sucking in air like it’s being ripped from his lungs, eyes darting around—confused and delirious from the last five minutes. “F- _fuck_ ” he chokes, pawing at the dark blue carpet, as warn and tattered as he is now.

              Castiel chuckles again, pleased with himself and with the current state of the _ever-so-composed,_ elder Winchester. The chosen one, _the righteous man_ —now nothing more than a righteous mess.

_Yes, balance is restored._

              However, his moment of private celebration is broken when the librarian finally makes her way over—looking furious that her first attempts to stop all this were inexplicably _denied_. “I don’t know what is going on here, but I am going to have to ask _both_ of you to leave!” she hisses, looking back over her shoulder at the curious crowd by her desk.

              Castiel ponders a moment, nodding shortly after as he adjusts the button on his sleeve, not bothering to look up when he finally chooses to speak. “ _Of course._ I apologize for any disruption we may have caused. We will leave immediately, well … _I will._ This one—“ he tips his head towards Dean, who is now passed out on the floor, still twitching with the bolts of pleasure Castiel forced through him. “ _He_ may need a moment.”

              The angel then drops his arms and stiffens his spine— _alert and proud_ —a soldier through and through. He takes a wide step around the woman who is still huffing and fuming like an overheated kettle, but unable to let out all her steam. With a few more paces, Castiel is almost at the door, halting just before he’s set to go through. Another pleased sigh escapes his lips as he swivels back around, making sure he catches the librarian’s eye before he opens his mouth. “When he comes to, you may want to point him to the _self-help_ section. His ego just took _quite_ a beating.”

              The automatic doors slide open in a whirl, and with the sound of whizzing cars and whistling wind, the angel powers on through.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at: [Castiel-Left-His-Mark-On-Me](http://castiel-left-his-mark-on-me.tumblr.com)
> 
> Check out the rest of my Ao3 for more Destiel/Cockles smut, fluff and overall feels.
> 
> Did you like what you read? If so, then please **SUPPORT THE STORIES**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Balance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782154) by [kansouame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kansouame/pseuds/kansouame)




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